Typical Thing
by Hyaci
Summary: Their love was just so typical. Oneshot.


She was there when he was brought into the world, mewling and naked and crying his lungs out. His father was sitting on his mother's hospital bed, together looking like the quintessential happy couple. They made her feel guilty that her marriage wasn't working out, and she resolved to try harder with Ron. She touched her own distended belly with a smile- her pregnancy might help them piece their marriage (which was currently in shambles) back together.

"Hi there," she whispered softly, knocking on the doorway. She leaned against the frame of it, studying her best friend Harry Potter for the first time in many years. Prior to the birth of their second child, he and Ginny had been going through a rough patch- at one point, Ginny had even showed up on Hermione's doorstep with James in her arms, and a suitcase on the floor beside her, sobbing incoherently, apparently having left Harry. The second baby had been both an accident and a blessing- the pregnancy ultimately healed the rift between them. Now, Harry looked at his wife only with the greatest love and adulation. It made Hermione hopeful- perhaps it could mend the relationship she shared with her husband.

"Hi Hermione," Ginny beamed, still cradling the crying baby back and forth in her arms, buoyed awake by a pepper up potion. "You want to hold him?"

"I'd love to," she answered with a smile, taking careful steps forward towards the hospital bed. Gently, she lifted the boy from Ginny's arms, and held him in her own. Immediately, he peered at her through his barely opened blue eyes, and immediately softened his wailing to a whimper, before halting his cries completely.

"I'm so jealous," Ginny said with a good natured smile. "He likes you better than me, Hermione."

"Don't be silly," Hermione laughed. "What's his name?" She raised her pointer finger up to his mouth to prod it gently, squealing with delight when he nipped at her fingertip.

"Albus Severus," Harry said proudly. Hermione raised her eyebrow, and when her eyes met his, she understood. The two most important men in his life had a lasting influence on him- his mentor, and his protector. They would be honored- venerated- by having this wonderful child as their namesake.

"I have no input in the creative process," Ginny complained, lying back in her bed, her eyes fluttering sleepily. "He rejected all my suggestions."

"You have no creativity, Gin," Harry said affectionately as he dipped down beside her and pecked her on the cheek.

"And you do?" Hermione sniggered. "Albus Severus- so creative! Your just taking names from others Harry."

He laughed throatily. "The next one will be Lilly, and after that we'll have Remus-"

"Whoa, whoa, stop right there," Ginny cautioned. "What next one? I'm done with having babies."

"I want a big family," Harry said happily, watching Hermione cradle Albus in her arms. He leaned down next to Ginny and sighed.

"We're all a big family," Hermione laughed gaily, suddenly feeling inexplicably carefree. "One big Weasley family."

* * *

"Aunt Mione," James whined, running into the room, his clothes muddy and dirty from playing in the garden with the other kids all day. Hermione looked up from her desk, heaved a sigh, before smiling wanly.

"Yes, James?"

"It's Albus Severus," he cried. "He's hurt!"

Immediately, she sprang into action, summoning her jacket and throwing it over her shoulders. "Damn Ron," she snarled. Where was the git? He was supposed to be watching over the children.

"Take me to him," she commanded, mentally cataloguing all the things that could have gone wrong. The children had been specifically told _not_ to call her unless something _really_ bad had happened, and now that contact had been established, she feared the worst.

Her fears were confirmed when James led her, not to the garden as she had expected, but to the windy side road that led to the base of the cliff that the garden rested upon. With every second, her heart raced faster with worry and anticipation. Even though Albus Severus was not her child, she still worried for him like one of her own. In fact, she held a particular soft spot for the child- she supposed he somehow evoked her maternal feelings.

She spotted him there, laying awkwardly on the floor, scraped raw and bleeding into the dry earth. His legs were bent at odd angles, and he was twitching slightly. Her heart stirred, broke just looking at him.

"Albus," she cried, running forward to attend to him. "Albus, how are you feeling? What happened?"

"Aunt 'Mione," he croaked painfully.

She quickly tossed out a patronus, to call for Molly. She had never been talented at healing- domestic magick was never her forte. Nevertheless, she knelt down to offset the damage with what little she knew.

"I've been fine," the boy wheezed quietly. "Knew… you'd be… coming…"

"I'm here, I'm here," she reassured him, her voice soothing, smooth, tinged with worry. It looked bad, it looked really bad- his ribs looked crushed, his bones all seemed broken. Panic surged through her breast. She hoped that Molly would get there soon.

She barked out an accio to summon a Wiggenweld potion as quickly as possible, her eyes never leaving his small, broken figure on the floor.

"We'll have you fixed up in no time," she murmured, feeling fear course through her as the child began to slip into unconsciousness…

* * *

It was Christmas again, and the Potters were over for the holidays. They all sat by the Christmas tree, exchanging presents with great gaiety and cheer.

When all of the gifts under the tree had been unwrapped, Hermione stood with a contented smile playing on her lips. Raising her wand to her cup of eggnog, she gave a couple taps, before calling out loudly, "Who's ready for Molly's famous Turkey?"

Immediately, the others were clamoring for the kitchen, presents forgotten. She ushered them out one by one with a twinkle in her eye. Family get-togethers were always her favorite time- since each of them held busy, important jobs, it was never easy to spend time together. In fact, this marked the first time that the golden trio had reunited for at least two and a half months.

She was thinking about this when she felt a large, warm hand on her cheek.

"What are you thinking about, Aunt Mione?" Albus said with a smile. Now a fifth year, he had undergone the standard Weasley growth spurt, and stood a little taller than her.

"I was thinking about your father, Ron, and I," she answered honestly. "We've been through a lot together, you know."

And he did know. Of all of her nieces and nephews, Albus Severus was the only one she consistently kept contact with. All the others found her 'too boring' or 'too prudish' for their tastes, apparently. But it didn't really matter to her, because though she maintained she didn't keep favorites, she honestly liked him better than the others anyway.

"Could you-" he hesitated, "could you tell me that story again?"

"Which one?" She inquired, though she knew exactly which one. It was his favorite, for some reason. It had always been. It never failed to cheer him up- he always chortled when he heard it though at what she honestly had no clue.

"About that one time Uncle Ron acted like a prat at the Yule Ball."

And with a smile, she retold the story to him, for the umpteenth time.

* * *

She had no clue how he knew what had happened, or how he had managed to gain entrance to her home, but she honestly did not care. All that mattered was that she needed a shoulder to weep on, and he had volunteered his warm, broad shoulder.

"Don't cry, Mione," he whispered soothingly. "It'll be all right. You'll be fine without him"

"No," She choked a sob. "I won't."

He said nothing, merely kept stroking her hair at a steady pace, holding her close to him, providing the warmth and comfort she so desperately needed at the moment.

At length, her sobs subsided, and she pulled away. "Thank you, Albus. You're always so good to me."

"Not a problem at all," he whispered, his eyes twinkling-mirroring, for a moment, a piercing blue pair emblazoned across her childhood memories.

"You're a good guy, you know that? I'm sorry for dumping all my issues on you. It's not your fault that Ron decided-"

"Not to recognize what a good thing he had?"

She had to laugh. "Thanks, Albus." Her hand raised itself to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Don't make the same mistake, okay?" she joked.

His hands gripped her shoulders.

"I won't," he said, his eyes boring into hers.

And then he kissed her.


End file.
